Blame It On The Pain Episode 8
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π§ Blame It On The Pain Episode EIGHT:
After a shower and a brisk visit with one of the m ob doc’s, it’s declared that, although extremely swollen, there’s no permanent damage to my eye.
All the fi ghts scheduled for the night are now over, so I grab my bag and head out into the cool late September night air.
As soon as I step outβ¦I’m immediately struck by a tiny fist to the face.
What the h’ll?
βThanks a lot, dk,β a woman’s voice yells.
I look down and can hardly believe my eyes. It’s the same blonde from earlier. Except this time, she looks beyond pissed.
Not something I was expecting.
I pull my bag up higher over my shoulder and stare at her. βYou know, usually, damsel’s in distress say βthank you’ after being saved.β
She lifts her chin. βFk you,β she spews. βI really needed this job and now I’m fired.β She jabs a finger into my chest. βAll because of you. Didn’t anyone ever teach you how to mind your own business? I was fine in there.β
I shake my head and begin walking. βYou weren’t fine. You were being a$saulted.β I stop walking and look at her. βWhat the h’ll is wrong with you?β
She tightens her leather jacket around her and crosses her arms over her chest. βI just told you. I got fired and I really needed that job.β
I shrug. βTrust me, you’re better off. This is no place for a girl like you.β
βYou don’t even know me,β she whispers.
Well, she has me there.
I reach into my pocket and pull out a wad of cash. She begins to protest, but I give her no choice. βHere. Sorry for the inconvenience I caused you. Obviously, you really need the money or you wouldn’t have punΒ’hed me in the face over it. Word to the wiseβ¦not all men would react the same way I would to being punΒ’hed, so be careful out there.β
I continue walking, even though I can hear her footsteps following behind me. βThanks, but I can’t accept this. I like to earn my money.β
She tries handing it back to me, but I decline. βLook, Luke owed you money for the night anyway. Consider this your payment from the club.β
She begins walking beside me. βHow’s your eye?β
βFine. No permanent damage.β I cross the street with her still in toe beside me. βDo you live around here or something?β I ask.
She looks at me curiously and I see the corner of her lips twitch. βWell, unlike you. Yes, I’m a New Yorker.β
βWhat gave it away?β
She smiles and I see the hint of a dimple on the left side of her cheek peek out. βI don’t know, but that’s a wicked cool accent you got there, Boston.β
I can’t help but smile myself. She’s good, I’ll give her that much. βSo, damsel, what’s your name?β
She shoots me an icy cold stare. βI’m not a damsel. And I’ll tell you, if you promise to never call me that again.β
βDeal, but that deals only in effect until the next time I see you.β I give her a wink. βThen all bet’s are off,β I tease.
βAlyssa.β
I give her a smirk. βSo does that mean you’re planning on seeing me again in the future?β
She shakes her head as we cross another street and walk down another block. βNo offense, Jackson. But you’re not really my type.β
Not gonna lie, that stung a little. Then, I think about the reality of the situation and know she’s right. I already know that this girl deserves a lot better than someone like me. Not to mention the fact that dating isn’t exactly my thing. βYeah, you’re probably right. Take care,β I say before I begin walking ahead of her.
βJackson,β she calls out and I can’t help but turn around. βThank you,β she says before she opens a car door.
I nod my head, but can’t help but wonder. βYou drive?β
βYeah, I live on Long Island. Nassau County to be exact,β she says.
βI thought you said before that you were a real New Yorker?β
She snorts and her eyes shoot daggers at me. She lets out a slew of cur$es finally ending with, βI am a New Yorker, you Boston prlck.β
Then she slams her car door and g.uns the engine.
That’s when I notice it. It’s a few years oldβ¦but she’s definitely driving a BMW.
She’s obviously not that hard up for money after all. And I just gave her everything in my wallet.
Sht, I guess it’s true what they say. There really is a suΒ’ker born every minute.
TO BE CONTINUED